


Pants Will Roll

by Daisyflo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, No Pregnancy, POV Rey (Star Wars), Sharing Clothes, Spooky Slut Ben, Texting, Thank you Rose, Wall Sex, Wrong Conversation, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 09:43:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21072851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyflo/pseuds/Daisyflo
Summary: Rey accidentally sends a rather explicit text to her lab partner, who replies rather quickly.





	Pants Will Roll

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceWaffleHouseTM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWaffleHouseTM/gifts).

> Thanks to AttackoftheDarkCurses for beta'ing this ♥  
Based on two reylo_prompts tweets, what is self control

**Ben |** _ That… is a surprising change of topic._

Horror seizes Rey at the sight of the text lighting her phone screen, and she feels her heart jump in her chest. She’s almost tempted to laugh, but the thought quickly leaves her when she sees the name attached to the message. _Shit_\-- that’s definitely not how she intended to make a good impression on her lab partner.

_Shit, shit, shit_. This has to be a joke, she can’t have sent that to him. Not when they were finally getting along. Already dreading the answer, she opens the text and scrolls back in the conversation to see what she last sent.

_Sorry_, she types with trembling fingers, _meant to send that to Poe._

She hits send with a lingering feeling of shame coupled with anxiety. She knows she shouldn’t—sexuality isn’t something to ashamed of, and the message really made her laugh enough to want to share it with her friends, but Ben doesn’t seem to share her sense of humor. He doesn’t even seem to _have_ a sense of humor. He’s always calm, quiet and more than serious about their project, only cracking a joke or two at his friends- but even then, it feels more like a way to tell Hux to shut up, which is weirdly satisfying. If Holdo hadn’t paired them together, Rey would never have been brave enough to talk to him. There’s just something intimidating about him, something-

**Ben |** _Is that the kind of thing you use your free time for?_

_-_breathtaking.

It takes Rey a few seconds to understand the meaning of his text—or more likely, fail to understand it. Is he trying to shame her for her absence of regularity in their project? Because she has been slower than usual lately, but she thought he’d been rather accommodating when she’d told him about her obligations at work. She’s already typing an apology when a second message arrives.

**Ben |** _Didn’t take you for that kind of girl._

Her heart falls to her knees as she keeps reading the words displayed before her eyes. Is he… is he joking? She’s been surprised before by his ability to say rather amusing things while keeping a deadpan face during their lab time together, but these were rare and… never with _that_ _context_. No, this is the kind of text Poe sends her when they’re jokingly flirting with each other to make Finn jealous.

**Rey |** _What kind of girl, exactly?_

**Ben |** _ How was it again… a “spooky slut”?_

_Slut_. Ben Organa Solo really just texted the word _slut_ after weeks of talking about the historical accuracy of several movies and books they were including in their research. He’s never replied this fast, and she can almost see the smirk on his face as she feels her own starting to redden. Still, she finds it in herself to reply as jokingly as she can, fingers still slightly trembling as she types the words on her keyboard.

**Rey |** _Technically, you’re the spooky slut_

_ or Poe would be, if I’d sent that correctly_

Once again, the answer comes within seconds.

**Ben |** _That’s not exactly how I see myself._

Even after months of texting (mostly to schedule studying sessions or ask about their assignments), she still has no idea when he’s serious or not. It’s disturbing, sometimes even frustrating, but it has to be part of the charm, because she can feel butterflies in her stomach as she tries to think of her next words.

**Rey |** _And how do you see yourself?_

**Ben |** _I don’t know, how do _you_ see me?_

Her body reacts before her brain has a chance to. As if shaken by a spasm, her legs leave the arm of the sofa and hide between her thighs as she straightens up between the pillows she spent her entire day on, eyes fixed on the last message. What does it even have to do with the rest of the conversation? When did Ben Solo get so… _bold_? This has to be a joke- he has to be playing with her as revenge for that text accident. There’s no way _he_ could be flirting with _her_. Just in case, she settles for a vague enough answer.

**Rey |** _Not very well, actually. You’re kinda tall._

The three dots preceding his answer tighten the knot in her stomach as she starts overthinking her text. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. He _is_ tall- but again, this may be one of the things she likes about him. Because she can’t really ignore how good looking he is- not when she spends ten hours a week next to him. And maybe she’s been thinking about him a bit too much lately, but it’s probably just her loneliness messing with her. Feelings of loneliness and an attractive lab partner is a dangerous equation.

**Ben |** _Is that a problem?_

Rey feels the butterflies flutter again. _No,_ she thinks while bringing her knees to her chest._ Definitely not a problem._ Her teeth chew at the inside of her cheeks as her fingers dance over the keyboard, definitely more assured than minutes before.

**Rey |** _I don’t know, tell me about it._

Before she knows it, Rey finds herself listening to Ben Solo’s complaints about being taller than average and how teachers shouldn’t always ask the tall kids to turn the projectors on. Soon enough, the conversation derails to Halloween and the party thrown by Poe and Finn’s fraternity, and Rey feels her cheek going crimson at the next message that comes in.

**Ben |** _Any chance I’ll see you there?_

**Rey |** _Wow, since when do you go to parties?_

**Ben |** _I don’t._

_ Usually._

Her eyes prick up to where Rose sat when she joined her half an hour ago. She’s watching some kind of cooking competition while working on another one of her pieces, eyes drifting from the screen to her needle.

“Hey,” Rey starts tentatively. “We’re still going to that thing tonight?”

A radiant smile crosses her roommate’s face at the question. “So you changed your mind?”

“I always wanted to go,” Rey protests.

It’s a lie, she knows it is- but she can’t really prompt herself to admit the reason of her sudden interest in Halloween parties. With a shrug she hopes looks neutral, she grabs her phone and quickly types an answer.

**Rey |** _I may be there around ten._

**Ben |** _Great._ _I’ll see you then._

\- - -

“Rey, please tell me your costume is in that bag.”

About a dozen pairs of eyes turn to them as Rey and Rose enter the house. Colorful eyes. Decorated eyes. Eyes hidden behind extravagant masks. Eyes that look way too elaborate next to her absence of costume or even makeup. Dreading her friend’s reaction, she vainly glances at the bag hanging from her shoulder and bites her lip. “I... no?”

A smirk crosses Rose’s lips. “I told you.”

Rey can’t really argue that, because Rose did tell her to get dressed. She even offered to give her one of her old theatre costumes, but something about the long white dress had felt a bit too much for her. Too fancy, too historical, too… _covering_. No, she was perfectly happy with the sweater and skirt she’d settled for- but given Poe’s face, this wasn’t enough.

“Oh baby,” he says as his hand dramatically lands on her shoulder. “You’re going to the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?”

“Those who don’t come in a costume,” Poe explains as he guides her through the corridor, “_make_ their costume. With… whatever they can find there.”

“_How?_”

A shrug shakes his shoulders as they stop by the giant kitchen. “I don’t know honey, I’m too smart to show up at a Halloween party without a costume.” He swallows back a laugh when she glares at him, throwing his arms in the air. “Make yourself a spaghetti dress, cover your boobs with ham, I don’t know, go all Gaga! Just make sure you don’t take anything from my shelves, ok?”

Before she can protest, Poe disappears in the darkness of the corridor to the crowded living room, leaving Rey alone in a similarly crowded kitchen that could probably fit twice her bedroom. Ignoring the amused eyes looking at her, she takes a deep breath and starts rummaging through the cupboards in quest of non-edible costume material. Just when she starts seriously considering the ideas Poe suggested, a large figure shadows her, followed by a deep voice she wasn’t expecting to hear that soon.

“So, how’s the Dracula dick sucking going on?”

_Shit_, hearing him talk like that is even more flustering than his texts. Preparing herself for the blush threatening to cross her face, she turns around and looks up as she nonchalantly leans against the counter, her heart making a loop when their eyes meet. “Well,” she replies cautiously, “haven’t found a vampire yet.”

A small chuckle leaves him, and this time, her heart almost stops. “That’s a shame. How about your costume?”

“My costume?”

“Your text mentioned costumes.”

She can’t help her eyes from looking away at the reminder of their conversation from earlier. They did talk about it, briefly- or rather _she_ did, in a desperate attempt to keep his playfulness going. She can’t believe he picked up on that, even less than Ben freaking Solo really is talking like that, and feels her cheeks starting to blush. She isn’t the only one in this kitchen taking his words for more than a friendly banter, right?

“I don’t actually own any.”

“Oh.”

A short silence follows, allowing her to take a proper look at him. He looks a little brighter than usual: his hair is still the darkest shade she’s ever seen, but he’s traded his usual black sweater for a brown plaid shirt that she has to admit, really looks good on him. She’s pretty sure she can see a smirk when her eyes stop on his lips, and her entire face feels hot again. “I see you don’t either.”

A shrug shakes his shoulders. “I did have a Batman suit when I was younger, but I’m not sure it fits anymore.”

He’s right next to her when he stops talking, his arms casually exploring the shelves above her. A wave of shivers seizes Rey at the proximity, and her brain immediately starts going places it shouldn’t. It’s a shame he doesn’t wear flannel more often, because this shirt really does his arms justice- she can see a hint of his muscles straining the fabric, and suddenly she’s wondering how these would feel around her.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, “probably doesn’t fit.”

There’s another smirk on his face again, promptly cut by a rather enthusiastic voice from the door. “Rey come on, you’re missing the beer pong tournament!”

Rose’s intervention suddenly feels like a blessing, allowing Rey to look away from Ben without feeling too obvious about it. Clearing her throat, she relaxes her body and turns to her friend with as much neutrality she’s capable of at the moment. “I’m not allowed without a costume,” she explains, vaguely gesturing to Ben. “_We_’re not allowed,” she corrects herself.

“Well, just switch outfits?”

Rey feels her cheeks redden at the suggestion. Given the obviousness in Rose’s tone, this isn’t supposed to be awkward, except it is, because she can feel Ben tensing up next to her- but before she can say anything, his voice rises again, deep and disturbingly pitching as he says, “Sure. Great idea, um…?”

“Rose,” she replies with a bright smile before turning to Rey with an amused look. “Don’t be too long, thought.”

Before Rey can reply to the unspoken accusation, Rose raises her eyebrows suggestively and disappears in the corridor again, almost throwing the contents of her glass on her way out.

“We don’t have to,” she mumbles with an apologetic look at Ben. “She always has all these fun ideas and-”

“We have to,” he retorts, “and we’re going to. Come on,” he adds when her eyes widen, “we’re not spending the night in the kitchen.”

And that is how Rey finds herself following him through never-ending stairs, her heart beating so fast that she’s positive it’s gonna leave her chest and hurtle down the hallway and into the street. She’s trying hard not to look at his ass as they explore the multiple corridors in search of a bathroom large enough to fit the two of them, and fails monumentally when a light switches at their passing. Each movement seems made to emphasize the muscles of his thighs, and his arms- she really needs to stop thinking about his arms, especially when just a few months ago, she couldn’t stand him. Especially when they’re about to be locked in a room together. Just when she starts contemplating the idea of running away, Ben’s voice drags her back to reality, amused yet cautious. “After you.”

Even though she’s never been fond of the whole gentleman thing, Rey can’t help the little smile curling her lips at the sight of him holding the door for her. She also can’t help but notice how the handle looks insanely small in his hands, and really, this isn’t helping with her fast-beating heart situation.

“Thanks,” she murmurs as she passes by him. The click of the lock echoes behind her, and the lights switch on, revealing a huge, fancy bathroom almost as big as the kitchen they just left.

“No wonder these frat boys have such glorious hair,” Ben murmurs as he joins her side.

A chuckle leaves Rey as she catches him looking at a shelf laden with about ten varieties of shampoo and conditioner. “You don’t really have anything to be ashamed of in the hair department.”

She’s pretty sure her cheeks are red again by the time he turns to her with a raised eyebrow. Fighting the impulse to laugh nervously, she settles for a simple shrug and looks around them. The wall facing them is entirely covered by a mirror, split in two by shelves running from the floor to the ceiling framed by two large sinks. The door on their left seems to be leading to a shower as large as a closet, which sort of matches the giant tub at the other side of the room.

“So this is what being rich looks like,” she says as her fingers trail down one of the numerous white, embroidered towels hanging from a towel warmer.

“I’m pretty sure you can get these for twelve bucks online,” Ben shrugs from behind her. Her eyes drift to the mirror facing her and immediately look down when she catches a glimpse of his bare chest in the reflection. He must have seen the panic in her eyes, maybe even heard the pounding of her heart, because she swears she can hear him scoff behind her. “We’re switching clothes,” he explains with a voice tinted with amusement.

Right. Switching clothes. “I know,” she replies after a moment. “But… can we… turn around?”

Seconds later, they’re in the middle of the room, almost back to back, taking their clothes off in what feels like an insanely slow pace.

“Jeans,” Ben murmurs as he blindly extends his arm behind him.

“Skirt,” Rey replies as she does the same.

Their hands brush for a brief second as they trade the clothes, and Rey can feel her entire body shivering at the contact. She’s tempted to cast a glance but focuses on the jeans in her hands instead and on standing still as she tries to thread her foot into one of the heavy legs.

“Shirt,” Ben announces as her other foot misses the entrance.

She wiggles a little, trying to get her legs to slide down the jeans. The fabric is heavy in her hands, slipping with every movement she makes. In a vain attempt to bring it up her hips, she bends a little and regrets the gesture when her ass meets Ben’s, cold against her warm skin.

“Sorry,” she breathes out immediately. There’s a brief moment of silence preceding Ben’s reaction- a tiny, almost inaudible reassurance that ‘it’s nothing’ before he slowly extends his arm behind, as if unsure of what it could bump into.

The following seconds are long and heavy, plunged in a silence that’s starting to make Rey feel weird about the whole situation. Maybe she misunderstood? Or saw signs where there weren’t? All she knows is her skin is still tinkling where they touched, and her whole body is covered with shivers when she shyly pulls her T-shirt above her head. The cold air of the room caresses her skin, the fabric of her bra stretching slightly where her nipples harden. Still, she can’t help thinking the temperature is not the only reason for this reaction.

“Thanks,” she murmurs as she frees his hand of the shirt in exchange of hers. She takes it with both hands and slips it on, the loss of the hand holding the jeans causing it to sink down her knees. She’s tempted to laugh, but remember the tension she can feel growing between them and clears her throat instead, doing her best to ignore how good his shirt smells. “So, uh… sorry for earlier. The text,” she hastens to add at the memory of their contact seconds before.

“No, you were right,” he replies with that deep voice of his. “Looks like I am indeed a spooky slut.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not wearing a bra.”

The sounds of their laughs tangling immediately breaks whatever tension there was, appeasing the knot in Rey’s stomach. “I can’t believe you just said that,” she manages to say after a moment.

“And I can’t believe we’re here.” Another laugh leaves him, although this time, slightly drier. “I always thought you hated me.”

Rey stops at the revelation, her fingers still on the fourth button of the shirt. “I never hated you,” she replies quietly. “It’s you who hates people.”

He isn’t exactly wrong, though; she’d had a problem with him at first. He hadn’t been the most talkative lab partner she’d had, and every one of his long, well punctuated texts had given her a feeling of strong inferiority coupled with the fear of bothering him by her sheer presence.

“I don’t hate people,” he mumbles through what she guesses is her shirt over his face. “They just… impress me.”

“Impress you? You’re about a hundred and seventy pounds of muscle and people _impress you_?”

“A hundred and ninety-six,” he corrects with another mumble.

The way he avoids her question is obvious, making Rey smile as she resumes buttoning the shirt above her chest. There’s something inexplicably cute about huge, broody Ben Solo being impressed at the sole idea of human interaction. It somehow makes her a little bolder, at least enough to dare say the next words.“Do I? Impress you?”

All she hears as a response is a soft chuckle, followed by another ruffling. “Ok, I’m descent. Ready when you are.”

A small approving hum leaves her, signaling that she’s ready too. Quickly, she grips the jeans and pulls it to her hips again as she turns around. She’s not exactly feeling at her sexiest, but knowing that his cologne will remain on her skin is worth it- but all trace of shame leave her as soon as her eyes land on Ben.

The first thing she notices is the thickness of his thighs. Her skirt seems to barely cover his ass, threatening to split open at any moment. She tries not to look too much at the middle of it, although she does catch a glimpse of a rather impressive bulge down there and wonders how she’ll ever be able to wear this again without the memory of it. Despite its high waist, the skirt fails to cover more than up to his navel, where her eyes are then attracted to an equally impressive series of abdominal muscles. The rest is only of logical consequence, broad chest crowned by wide shoulders, and it’s suddenly frustrating how close he is and how her hand is not on his skin.

“I couldn’t put your shirt on,” Ben explains with a shrug. The movement only makes his muscle twitch, and Rey feels herself twitching in return.

She’s not sure the words really cross her mouth when she wants to assure him that it’s not a problem, not at all. All she knows is that he somehow managed to look incredibly sexy in that blue leather skirt, maybe even more than her, and she feels both jealous and lucky at the same time.

“Rey?”

“Hm?”

“I asked if there’s something wrong with the jeans?”

She quickly looks down, only to see her hand still gripping at it, her knuckles white.

“A bit large,” she manages to say in a breath.

Without a word, Ben turns to a hanging bathrobe and slips its strap out of its hooks. It’s a miracle she’s still behaving, or standing, or really, just breathing, and Ben seems determined to ruin her as he takes the few steps separating them and kneels before her carefully, his brow creased in pain when his legs reach the floor. Although he doesn’t explain, Rey imagines the tightness of the skirt interferes with his frame in an unpleasing way.

“Put your hands away,” he asks gently, and she obeys immediately.

One of his large palms comes to envelop her hip, holding the jeans in place while the other threads the belt into the hooks. She can feel her nipples hardening under his touch, and prays for her breathing not to betray her as his moving hand reaches her back. She hates being helped like she’s a weak thing, but the fact that his hand easily wraps around half her waist does _something_ to her, making her think of all the other parts of her he could easily cup with that hand. She’s just started thinking about his fingers when his movements stop, leading her to look down at him.

Her eyes immediately meet his, and her heart immediately falls to her feet. He looks fascinated, unsure, and absolutely handsome. A lock of dark hair falls on his forehead, and she can’t stop herself from pushing it away. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t stop staring at her and raises his other hand to the other side of her hips, making her feel more powerful than ever. The makeshift belt is still hanging from the large jeans threatening to fall down her legs, but she couldn’t care less- all she cares about is his look, his hands, the dizzying fragrance she can feel on his shirt and the ridiculousness of the pencil skirt wrapped around his muscular thighs. It’s a wonder it hasn’t split yet, and a mystery how he even managed to put it on. Following her instincts and desire, she sinks down on her knees to meet his height, her eyes still locked with his. Her hands somehow find their way around on his shoulders on her way down, and the second her face levels his, she crushes her lips against his.

It’s soft, warm and strong at the same time, and Rey wonders if her heart can really take it when she feels it pounding in her ears. It has to, though, because she can feel Ben’s fingers tightening around her waist. She can feel him smile against her lips as her whole body shivers, and as tempting as it is to mirror him, she takes it as an advantage to kiss him again, this time more intensely. His arms wrap around her as he returns the kiss with just as much passion, and she’s hauled on his lap within seconds, her face only inches higher than his.

“I like you,” Ben says in a whisper. “I really, really like you.”

“I like you, too.”

It feels like a discovery and evidence at the same time as she says it. A smile paints her face at the realization, promptly cut by his lips chasing hers. The kiss quickly becomes hasty, hungry, and Rey deepens it so much she can feel her lungs begging for air, but she ignores them- she needs more of him. More of his lips, more of his nose crushed against her cheek, more of his hair tangled between her fingers. She needs to feel him closer, to warm his cold skin with hers and hold him until nether of them can breathe anymore. Instinctively, her legs spread around his waist, but frustration hits her as soon as she remembers the heavy fabric currently stopping her movement. Before she can protest or say anything, Ben moves under her and she’s in the air within seconds, his grip on her waist firmer than ever as the jeans fall down between them and on the floor, leaving her legs bare and shivering.

His shirt is pooling around her shoulders by the time she’s pressed against the closest wall, and she’s not sure the shivers are from the cold or the kisses Ben keeps planting at the crook of her neck. She can’t help the little smile curling her lips, neither can she hold back the little moans crossing her lips when his arms wrap around her thighs. The pressing of her underwear is already too much when his leg comes between her legs and pushes against her gently, and she has to grit her teeth not to alarm the entire house as a wave of electricity passes through her. “Ben-”

One of his hands quickly leaves her, traveling up her body as his firmly pushes her against the wall. The tiles are cold against her skin, increasing the eruption of goosebumps on her back while Ben takes care of the ones on her stomach. His fingers search for the front of her shirt- his shirt. The first buttons quickly come undone, and his lips are on her collarbone the second he can access it.

“Don’t take it off.” It sounds more like a request than an order but still, Rey can’t find it in herself to refuse. She can’t even agree with more than a hasty nod as his mouth moves to the top of her bra, between her breasts, trailing kisses everywhere he can with an eagerness that makes her want to return the favor. She tightens her grip on him instead, pulling him closer with a brief squeeze of her thighs around him. It doesn’t stop his kisses, nor does it stop his hand from going lower and lower until she feels his fingers brushing the apex of her thigh. Another moan leaves her, then a frustrated groan when she realizes his fingers aren’t moving closer.

“I’m gonna need you to get down a second,” Ben says after a moment. “I can’t take your-”

“Rip it,” she mutters.

A small chuckle leaves him, followed by a surprised tone in his voice. “Really?”

Opening her eyes is insanely painful, but not as much as the growing need to feel him. She doesn’t regret it though, because when she does, all she can see is his eyes, and the wonder in them as she nods frantically. An agreement leaves his lips in a whisper right before they brush against hers again. His fingers slowly find their way up her underwear, brushing the fabric in a gentle movement that bothers her as much as it satisfies her. She moves her hips impatiently, and Ben smiles against her mouth. “Impatient,” he remarks.

She replies with another jerk of her hips, her nails digging into his bare shoulders. It earns her another chuckle, shortly cut by a moan when she squeezes her legs around him again. It might’ve worked, because the second after, his fingers are hooked around her panties, tugging at them gently, then sharply. The fabric gives way the third time, and Rey jumps a little at the sensation. The elastic digs into her hips then surrenders as well, leaving her almost naked with Ben’s shirt slightly covering her breasts.

“I’m gonna need a little help with the skirt,” Ben chuckles into her mouth when she kisses him again.

True- the skirt. A brief glance at it informs her that he’s tried to slip out of it with little success; luckily, she’s worn this thing more times than she can count. Immensely thankful for the elasticity of the fabric and for Ben’s strength, she bends a little and pulls the skirt down. His underwear follows right after, and her heart almost drops both at the sight and at her loss of balance. She barely has time to process it and then Ben’s already pining her against the wall. This time, her heart _does_ drop when finally feels him.

She shudders at the contact immediately, tightening her grip on him as his tip brushes her. She can feel how wet she is by the ease with which he grazes her, by how much she wants him. Her legs are trembling by the time he presses against her again, and she doesn’t exactly understand the words that leave her- only his name repeated a few times like a chant, on the verge of begging. One of his hands travel up her neck then into her hair, clenching into a fist around her waves before he finally pushes into her, a groan leaving him just as she lets out a moan.

He’s big, bigger than anyone she’s ever been with; and yet, the slight pain that first came soon turns into an intense satisfaction. It’s perfect- _he’s_ perfect, and she feels more full and complete than she’s ever had as he thrusts into her again, his pace growing faster each time he comes back. For a moment, all Rey can feel is him. Him against her, around her, inside of her: him, just him, always him. Her own breath starts to shudder when his begin to warm the skin of her neck and soon enough, her entire body responds to his in ways she never suspected it could. It’s all happening fast and yet not fast enough- her stomach twisting, her hips hitting his as her whole body bounces against the wall, his arms her only support. Ben Solo- her legs are wrapped around _Ben Solo_. She would let out a little laugh if she wasn’t already holding her breath, because she never would’ve thought of her with him, and now she can’t think of her with anyone else.

“Rey, I- I’m close-”

A strangled moan crosses his lips, immediately muffled as he buries his face into her neck. It’s a simple gesture, probably the most innocent one he’s had all night- and yet, it’s exactly what brings Rey to the edge. Her entire body shudders at the contact, and she feels the familiar wave of electricity building in her abdomen at an insane rhythm.

“Come,” she murmurs into his hair. “Come for me Ben.”

It seems enough to bring him to his orgasm: his grip on her tightens briefly as his thrusts get messier, and it’s a miracle he’s still able to hold her. A series of groans leave him, and Rey feels her heart bounce inside her chest when his lips find her skin again. She can feel him coming inside of her, can feel his tongue teasing the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and suddenly it’s too much and not enough, and why can’t he be _closer_, why is the human body so limiting and why-

She comes seconds after him, but contrary to him, she doesn’t do it silently. The music coming from the living room is probably enough to cover her moans, but nothing can divert her from how many times his name rolls off her tongue. She’s never come that fast or that hard, and it’s as surprising as it is satisfying. It does take her a moment to come back, though; but when she does, she’s greeted with a genuine smile and a small kiss to her lips that she welcomes happily. Her arms instinctively find their way back around Ben’s neck, and she can’t help but pull him closer to her as they both deepen the kiss. She might not ever be able to let him leave, not now that she knows how good his body feels against hers. She’s wondering how long she’s supposed to wait to suggest they do it again when Ben breaks their embrace to carefully let her slide down, his hands guiding her to the floor.

“Please, text me for Thanksgiving,” he says when she’s back on her feet.

She’s fazed at first, a frown breaking the smile she’d begun to return, because Thanksgiving is _so far away_. “I could text you tomorrow, too,” she breathes out.

A new chuckle leaves him, making her heart sink to her knees. “Yes. Please, do.”


End file.
